Olympic Hetalia
by Karma Sutra
Summary: Tensions run high as America, Russia, England, France, and China watch Men's Gymnastics. Who will go for the gold, and why is England's prime minister involved!


"Ha! That's how a _true_ athlete does it, you bloody gits!" England crowed, knocking his beer back the next second.

"Aw, fuck! Pommelhorse is our worst damn event! Fucking Horton," America whined next to England, cradling a bottle of Jack Daniels as tenderly as a child. All five of the allies had gathered at England's house for an 'emergency P5 meeting.' No one had to know that said meeting was actually an excuse to watch the Men's Gymnastics portion of the Olympics.

"Why am I fifth? They have made mistake. I will kill them," Russia murmured into his vodka bottle, an inky purple aura gathering around his head. France inched away, although he was pretty much stranded on the loveseat with the childishly violent man.

"Dude? I'm seventh? The fuck?" America kicked the air and threw a pillow, accidentally hitting China (who was scooted close to the television) in the back of the head.

"I am first, ar-OOPH!" The much older man grunted as the pillow hit. "That was not very nice!" He twisted his lithe body to glare at the offending blond, rubbing his head as he did so.

"Sorry, dude," America muttered, obviously not sorry, propping his feet up onto the coffee table from his place on the couch. "I just don't see how the _Russkiy_ is doing better than me."

"That is because I always top you, Amerika." Ivan grinned for emphasis, although his violet eyes remained stormy. England, who had come off his euphoria since China beat his score, jumped up, splashed Alfred with beer. His flushed cheeks, unfocused eyes, and brashness made one believe he had, had perhaps too much to drink.

"You stay away from my colony, you bloody wanker!"

Way too much.

France spoke up, eyeing Britain rather than his lower ranking on the television. "Mon ami, you are stuck in the past. America is no more your colony than Georgia is Russia's."

That hit a nerve. Ivan slid his attention to the over talkative Frenchman with murderous intent. Francis, however, appeared unphased, most likely due to the liquid courage hanging casually from his long fingers.

"That's right. Your boss has been trying forever to get Georgia back. It's not going to happen."

Now even China was torn from the television; shocked by the reckless words of the younger nation.

As Russia started to draw out his lead pipe, America spasmed, abandoning the Jack Daniels to the cushions. "Your sister's third!"

The larger man paused, fear startling him into dropping the pipe, and even his vodka.

"No, not Natalia. The one with the big breasts whose name I'm supposed to remember because Hillary told me they might be cool with a business deal."

"You call your foreign minister by her first name?" Francis asked incredulously, his antagonism momentarily forgotten.

"What the hell's a foreign minister? She's my Secretary of State. And yeah, dude, she's cool. Her husband was my boss. We're tight."

"Japan's not doing so well, aru," China noted, his attention to the games returned.

"Fuck him, he was totally spying on my trials," America leaned back against the couch, calm once again. Or, as calm as the hyperactive America can be.

"Just you wait, China, I won't be second for lo-" England dropped off as the newest ranks appeared. Francis and America burst into insane giggle fits and even Russia offered a fairly normal smile.

"You're right, Britain. You weren't second for long," France managed to say.

"You're third!" America shouted through his laughter.

England turned to China in his rage. "I thought you said Japan wasn't doing well!"

The 4,000 year old man blinked calmly at the angry European. "He wasn't, on one of the previous events. His recovery was quick."

"That's relaying false information!"

"If you were watching the games, we wouldn't have this problem, aru!"

"Bloody hell!" the island nation shouted, heading for the door in his drunken state.

"Where are you going?" France inquired, craning his neck to watch him leave.

"To start a nuclear war."

"Dude, you can't do that unless your boss says so."

"Fuck David Cameron!"

And then England was gone.

America turned towards the others, unconcerned. "He's going to get his ass beat for that later. Should we go back to the games?"

The others nodded and they all settled down once again.

That is, until the next ranking.


End file.
